


The Missing Blur

by lucsdrafts



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, first, theyfuckwhatelseistheretosay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucsdrafts/pseuds/lucsdrafts
Summary: Basically all the sex parts Casey McQuiston had to leave out or else we all would've been reading Fifty Shades of Gray, the LGBT version although I'm pretty sure none of us would've complained.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Kudos: 113





	The Missing Blur

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~~
> 
> I'm making these in all the parts the sex scenes were clearly skipped over, rushed over, and just all of that. Comment for a page/chapter!! Enjoy 🥰

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS WAS LATE, COLLEGE AND A LOT OF PERSONAL STUFF GOT IN THE WAY, ENJOY :)

_**RWRB Chapter 4** _

_Alex likes the look on Henry’s face, the sure curl of his hand around the neck of the bottle, the way his lips wrap around the mouth of it._

_… blinking through the booze, following the smooth line of his nose and the gentle dip at the center of his lower lip, each touched by moonlight._

“I’d date more, probably, as well.”

“Right, because it’s so hard to get a date when you’re a prince,”

“I’m saying that I have… people… who interest me,” Henry says, turning his body toward Alex now, speaking with a fumbling pointedness, as if it means something. “But I shouldn’t pursue them. At least not in my position.” 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Alex says.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“You really don’t?” 

“I really, really don’t.” 

Henry’s whole face grimaces in frustration, his eyes casting skyward like they’re searching for help from an uncaring universe. “Christ, you are as thick as it gets,” he says, and he grabs Alex’s face in both hands and kisses him.

Alex is frozen, registering the press of Henry’s lips and the wool cuffs of his coat grazing his jaw. The world fuzzes out into static, and his brain is swimming hard to keep up, adding up the equation of teenage grudges and wedding cakes and two a.m. texts and not understanding the variable that got him here, except it’s … well, surprisingly, he really doesn’t mind. Like, at all. 

In his head, he tries to cobble a list together in a panic, gets as far as, _One_ , Henry’s lips are soft, and short-circuits. 

He tests leaning into the kiss and is rewarded by Henry’s mouth sliding and opening against his, Henry’s tongue brushing against his, which is, wow. It’s nothing like kissing Nora earlier—nothing like kissing anyone he’s ever kissed in his life. It feels as steady and huge as the ground under their feet, as encompassing every part of him, as likely to knock the wind out of his lungs. 

One of Henry’s hands pushes into his hair and grabs it at the roots at the back of his head, and he hears himself make a sound that breaks the breathless silence, and— 

Just as suddenly, Henry releases him roughly enough that he staggers backward, and Henry’s mumbling a curse and an apology, eyes wide, and he’s spinning on his heel, crunching off through the snow at double time. Before Alex can say or do anything, he’s disappeared around the corner. 

“Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.”

_**Chapter 5** _

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” she says. 

“Probably not,” Alex tells her. 

She opens the door just enough to let them through, and Alex hauls Henry into the Red Room with him. 

“What on God’s earth are you doing?” Henry demands. “Shut up, shut all the way up, oh my God,” Alex hisses, and if he weren’t already hell-bent on destroying Henry’s infuriating idiot face with his mouth right now, he would consider doing it with his fist. He’s focused on the burst of adrenaline carrying his feet over the antique rug, Henry’s tie wrapped around his fist, the flash in Henry’s eyes. He reaches the nearest wall, shoves Henry against it, and crushes their mouths together. 

Henry’s too shocked to respond, mouth falling open slackly in a way that’s more surprise than invitation, and for a horrified moment Alex thinks he calculated all wrong, but then Henry’s kissing him back, and it’s everything. It feels as good as—better than—he remembered, and he can’t recall why they haven’t been doing this the whole time, why they’ve been running belligerent circles around each other for so long without doing anything about it. 

“Wait,” Henry says, breaking off. He pulls back to look at Alex, wild-eyed, mouth a vivid red, and Alex could fucking scream if he weren’t worried dignitaries in the next room might hear him. “Should we—” 

“What?” 

“I mean, er, should we, I dunno, slow down?” Henry says, cringing so hard at himself that one eye closes. “Go for dinner first, or—” 

Alex is actually going to kill him. 

“We just had dinner.” 

“Right. I meant—I just thought—” 

“Stop thinking.” 

“Yes. Gladly.” 

In one frantic motion, Alex knocks the candelabra off the table next to them and pushes Henry onto it so he’s sitting with his back against—Alex looks up and almost breaks into deranged laughter—a portrait of Alexander Hamilton. Henry’s legs fall open readily and Alex crowds up between them, wrenching Henry’s head back into another searing kiss. 

Alex's hands all roam to the chest of the Prince even tugging on his tie that he just wants to rip off. His hands, their lips, their hips, they’re really moving now, Alex’s hands roam everywhere at Henry’s suit, wanting him to take off the stupid jacket. Henry’s lip caught between Alex’s teeth, the portrait’s frame rattling against the wall when Henry’s head drops back and bangs into it. 

Alex is at his throat, and he’s somewhere between angry and giddy, caught up in the space between years of sworn hate and something else he’s begun to suspect has always been there. It’s white-hot, and he feels crazy with it, lit up from the inside. _Dios mio,_ how badly he wants to mark the boy up, overwhelmed with lust. The shorter of the two giggles into the others' lips, leaning in to crash their lips together once again. Though the giggles are all lighthearted, they still remain with lust. 

Henry gives as good as he gets, hooking one knee around the back of Alex’s thigh for leverage, delicate royal sensibilities nowhere in the cut of his teeth. Alex has been learning for a while Henry isn’t what he thought, but it’s something else to feel it this close up, the quiet burn in him, the pent-up person under the perfect veneer who tries and pushes and wants. 

He drops a hand onto Henry’s thigh, feeling the electrical pulse there, the smooth fabric over hard muscle. He pushes up, up, and Henry’s hand slams down over his, digging his nails in. Alex can surely feel the Prince's hard on, feeling the boy's breathing starting to fasten as they break the kiss. Henry hits his head on the painting as Alex gets closer-- as if it was possible. Slowly Alex leans his bulge onto Henry's as they both moan out loudly. 

Henry places both hands on the other's shoulders as he places the front of his head on Alex's chest as the boy then begins to palm Henry's hard-on. He wants to suck him dry, make the Prince forget about his name, his position, but he can't. Not now. 

“Time’s up!” comes Amy’s voice through a crack in the doors. 

They freeze, Alex falling back onto his heels. They can both hear it now, the sounds of bodies moving too close for comfort, wrapping up the night. Henry’s hips give one tiny push up into him, involuntary, surprised, and Alex swears.

“I’m going to die,” Henry says helplessly. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Alex tells him. 

“Yes, you are,” Henry agrees. 

Alex takes an unsteady step backward. 

“People are gonna be coming in here soon,” Alex says, reaching down and trying not to fall on his face as he scoops up the candelabra and shoves it back onto the table. Henry is standing now, looking wobbly, his shirt untucked and his hair a mess. Alex reaches up in a panic and starts patting it back into place. “Fuck, you look— _fuck_.” 

Henry fumbles with his shirt tail, eyes wide, and starts humming “God Save the Queen” under his breath. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Christ, I’m trying to make it”—he gestures inelegantly at the front of his pants—“go away,” he says to his obvious boner at which Alex very respectively does not look down. 

“Okay, so,” Alex says. “Yeah. So here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna go be, like, five hundred feet away from me for the rest of the night, or else I am going to do something that I will deeply regret in front of a lot of very important people.” 

“All right…” 

“And then,” Alex says, and he grabs Henry’s tie again, close to the knot, and draws his mouth up to a breath away from Henry’s. He hears Henry swallow. He wants to follow the sound down his throat. “And then you are going to come to the East Bedroom on the second floor at eleven o’clock tonight, and I am going to do very bad things to you, and if you fucking ghost me again, I’m going to get you put on a fucking no-fly list. Got it?” 

Henry bites down on a sound that tries to escape his mouth, and rasps, “Perfectly.”e against the cool pillow, falling asleep. 


End file.
